Five Times Newt Didn't Belong And One Time He Did
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Newt never seemed to fit in, until one day, he does.


**A/N: Hey, y'all! This was written for the QLFC Round 6 and Hogwarts Assignment One.**

 **Chaser 2: February— Newt**

 **(Dialogue) "Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!"**

 **(word) estranged**

 **(creature) Jarvey**

 **Assignment One: Write about a tumultuous relationship between siblings**

 **Thanks to Amber and Kim for beta'ing!**

 **Word Count: 3,000**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Fantastic Beasts. Those rights go to JK Rowling and Warner Bros.**

 **Enjoy!**

I

"Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!"

Newt distantly heard the shouted warning, and despite the fact that he was not, in fact, ready, he couldn't tear his eyes away from what was in front of him. He was standing in the tall grass behind his parents' house, getting mercilessly bitten by mosquitoes as the sun set. In the small cluster of trees a few meters away from him, a small rustling had drawn his attention.

The six-year-old boy glanced over his shoulder. His parents were hosting a dinner party with his father's new coworkers, and he was supposed to be participating with the other kids. He was under strict instructions not to "let anything loose" or "cause a stampede". But whatever was in the bushes couldn't be dangerous, right?

Newt approached cautiously. After a brief moment of indecision, he pulled apart the branches.

A long, black creature jumped out at him, and the boy yelped, startled but excited. He eagerly turned towards the creature, taking in its ferret-like appearance. Newt got on his hands and knees and crawled towards it.

"You're a Jarvey," he whispered, awed. He'd never seen one before.

The Jarvey's beady eyes locked onto him. "Figured that out by yourself, did you?" it asked in biting tones, its needle-sharp teeth flashing.

Ignoring what had been meant to be an insult, Newt grinned at the Jarvey. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "I just want to look, to remember you later."

The Jarvey let out what seemed like an imitation of laughter. "Bet it's a bit nicer than looking in the mirror."

Newt scooted a little closer. The Jarvey continued to mutter rude phrases, but Newt wasn't bothered. That was just part of being a Jarvey. "I'm Newt. Newt Scama— hey!"

Someone seized Newt around the middle and tugged him roughly backwards. At the same time, the unidentified person kicked out at the Jarvey, sending it running about in a frenzy as Newt's captor stomped at it.

"Don't hurt it!" Newt shrieked. "Don't hurt it, it won't hurt you, don't—"

"I've got him!" the person holding Newt shouted. "I found him, Theseus, there was this thing trying to get him—"

Newt recognized the voice as one of the sons of the men attending his parents' party. He struggled against the older boy's grip just as the other guests came running over.

"Let me go!" he protested. "It was just a Jarvey; he didn't do anything to you! You were mean to it!"

The older boy dropped him angrily. Newt shoved his curly brown hair out of his face, scowling up at him.

" _I_ was mean to _it?_ It was about to attack you! Merlin— Theseus, you should talk to your brother. He's obviously a bit of an idiot."

Theseus, who's five years older, grabbed his little brother's arm tightly, his face unreadable. "Thank you for finding him, Augustus. Come on, Newt."

Theseus began pulling him away from the group of children— who were all fawning over Augustus' daring rescue— and Newt struggled to keep up with his brother.

"It was just a Jarvey," he tried to explain. "It wouldn't have hurt me. And he scared it away— he could have hurt it, too! He was mean to it, and—"

Theseus whirled around to face him angrily. "No, Newt, this is your fault! You disappeared during our game— you were only supposed to _hide_ , not go searching for creatures— and then when Augustus found you, he tried to help you and you insulted him! We need him to like us, Newt. Weren't you paying attention before? He's the son of Father's new superior— you could have just hurt his career!"

Newt's eyes stung. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to—"

Theseus' blue eyes were blazing. "You _always_ mess everything up— go apologize to Augustus. Maybe we can fix this yet."

Head lowered, Newt obeyed.

II

Newt laughed as the small Bowtruckle clung to his index finger. It was his third year at school, and Care of Magical Creatures had quickly become his favorite class. They'd learned about Bowtruckles today, and this one seemed particularly fond of him.

"Come on, now," he laughed. "Class is nearly over, and you have to go back to your friends."

The Bowtruckle shook its tiny green head and wrapped its long, stick-like fingers around his knuckle. Newt sighed fondly, a small smile etched upon his face. It quickly fell, though, when he heard the muttering behind him.

"That's Scamander all right— the only thing he can get to like him is that Bowtruckle."

"Yeah, he's good for homework help, but not much else."

"He's like a walking textbook— completely dull."

Newt's shoulders slumped. He looked at the little Bowtruckle, who was gazing up at him with sad brown eyes. "You don't have many friends either, do you?" he asked in his soft voice. "Well, you can stick with me. Just don't tell the professor."

He let the tiny Bowtruckle climb beneath his black and yellow tie, making sure that his new friend was secure. He glanced down at the twig-like creature. "If you're going to stick around, you need a name. How about—"

He was interrupted by a rough shove on the shoulder. "Scamander! Are you really talking to that thing?"

Newt turned around slowly as laughter chorused around him. His gaze flickered between his attacker and the ground. "Actually, Bowtruckles are very intelligent creatures. Which you'd know, if you'd bothered to read the chapter assigned last night."

Markus Cunningham, a fellow Hufflepuff and someone Newt didn't get on with, glared at him menacingly. Markus was on the Quidditch team, and therefore built quite a bit more solidly than Newt. Normally Newt knew better than to bait him, but when creatures were concerned, he couldn't seem to bite his tongue.

Cunningham looked over him. "What did you say to me, _Scamander?"_

Newt huffed a bit and looked up, fidgeting slightly. "I told you that Bowtruckles were highly intelligent creatures, and therefore it's perfectly reasonable to have a conversation with them."

Cunningham barked out a laugh. "'Perfectly reasonable'? Take a look around, Scamander. Nobody else is freakish enough to talk to tree bark."

With those words came the end of class. Newt trailed behind his classmates as they all headed back up to the castle. Halfway there, Newt felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Leta Lestrange smiling softly at him.

"Hullo, Newt. Herbology was awful— how was your class?"

Newt shrugged. "I liked the lesson. But not so much the people in it."

Leta rolled her dark eyes. "Oh, I know what you mean. You're the only sensible person here, I swear."

Newt's heart lifted slightly at her words, but then plummeted once more when he caught Cunningham recounting what had happened in class to some of his friends.

Newt sighed and hurried inside. Sometimes he worried they were right; maybe he _was_ a freak.

III

Newt stared at his shoes as he listened to Theseus pace in front of him. Over the years the two brothers had alternated between becoming closer and drifting farther apart. Now though, his brother's quiet fury was charging the air around them. As his parents were both out of the country, Theseus had been called to the school to collect Newt.

Finally, Theseus stopped in front of him. Newt didn't look up.

"Expelled," he said quietly. "Care to explain, Newton?"

Newt groaned and rolled his head to look up at his brother. "Ah, don't call me that."

Theseus barked out a laugh of disbelief. " _That's_ all you can say? Not 'I know I messed up, Theseus' or 'I'm sorry I've _disgraced the family,_ Theseus'. Honestly, _Newton_ , haven't you any shame?"

Newt clenched his jaw. "I don't think there's anything to say. I can't change what happened."

Theseus ran his hands through his dark brown hair, shaking his head slightly. "I just— Newt, I know that you love creatures. But letting a Jarvey loose in the school? I expected better from you; we all did."

"That wasn't intentional," Newt blurted out, thinking of Leta. Surely she hadn't meant for the Jarvey to get loose. Surely taking the blame for her was the right thing. "I just wanted to study it. Everything that happened after was an accident."

"An accident," Theseus hissed. "that has resulted in your expulsion. Frankly, I'm surprised they aren't snapping your wand."

Newt's lowered his blue eyes. "I _understand_ what happened."

Theseus slammed his hand on a nearby desk; they were in an abandoned classroom. "I just— a Scamander, expelled. Father will not be pleased."

Mr. Scamander was not an easy man to impress, nor was he someone his sons aspired to be like. They respected him, but their relationship with him was heavily strained. In times like this, though, when all Theseus seemed to worry about was how Newt was hurting his reputation (because that was the cause of Theseus' anger— he feared Newt would ruin his chances of being an Auror), he seemed to mirror their father. He told him so, and his brother didn't take it well.

Theseus stormed over to the door, fists clenched. "Stay here. I'll be back in an hour to Floo you home. You can follow _that_ simple rule, can't you?"

He wrenched the door open and slammed it behind him.

Newt dropped his head into his hands. He couldn't believe it. _Expelled._ He fingered the case at his feet. He wondered if this would estrange him even more from his family; it already had distanced the brothers. He feared their relationship was beyond repair. They argued constantly, and Newt was sick of it.

Newt held his finger up to his tie, his stomach in knots. With a jolt, he realized that he was no longer a Hufflepuff; he felt further away from his House than ever before. He let Pickett, his Bowtruckle friend from third year, climb onto his hand.

"Well, Pickett," he said miserably. "I suppose it's just you and me now."

Pickett frowned and hugged his thumb. Newt laughed softly. "That's all right. Maybe it's for the better, yeah? This could be a turning point for us."

Pickett appeared skeptical. Newt sighed. "Well, you could at least _pretend_ to be optimistic."

IV

"You want to what?" Newt's father asked in disbelief.

Newt braced himself for the inevitable explosion. "I want to be a part of the Ministry's new program to wrangle Ukrainian Ironbellys. I'd be serving on the Eastern Front. I— I believe I can help."

Mr. Scamander stared at him, dumbstruck. "Newt, I support your decision to help the war effort—"

Newt immediately brightened. Those were words he never thought he'd hear his father say.

"— but why don't you help a bit more like your brother is? He's got a bit of a reputation— he could help keep you safe."

Newt scowled. Things had become rather tense between the brothers ever since Theseus had announced his engagement to Leta Lestrange. This was very painful for Newt as he had loved her through school, and had even taken the fall for her when she'd let that Jarvey run rampant. She'd taken advantage of that, he knew now, and had rubbed salt in the wound by becoming his older brother's fiancée.

"I'm not Theseus," he pointed out. "And I don't much fancy being his responsibility."

Mr. Scamander was quiet for a moment. He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. "I know very well that you aren't Theseus," he said finally, looking up at Newt with hard eyes. "That has been made perfectly clear to me. But you _are_ a Scamander, and Scamanders _don't_ go around chasing after dragons. You have alienated yourself from us enough, boy. It's time you acted like a respectable member of this family."

Newt stared at him in disbelief. "How is working with dragons shameful? And I'm not a boy— I'm eighteen. This Muggle war has been going on for a year already, and I want to help."

Mr. Scamander crosses his arms, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Because I know what comes after those dragons. Unicorns, merfolk, werewolves, acromantulas— it won't end! My sons are clever, respectable young men, and I won't let you give anyone the opportunity to say otherwise."

Newt silently fumed. He wasn't one to get angry easily, but this was his passion that his father was shooting down. And anyway, he'd always gotten along better with his creatures than his fellow human beings.

He tried again. "I have to help; this is the best way I can."

His father glared at him. "You are not going anywhere near those dragons." He left the room, leaving Newt standing in their sitting room, body tense.

That night, he snuck out and joined the program.

V

Newt sat down at one of the picnic benches the Ironbelly volunteers used for mealtimes. Admittedly, this was his least favorite part of the day, interacting with his colleagues. He'd much rather be wrangling the dragons— or saving the others from being eaten, as the case may be. At times, the Ukrainian Ironbellys seemed much less savage than the men on his team.

Like now, for instance.

Newt sat alone, shoulders hunched, trying to block out the conversation behind him as he ate his (slightly soggy) sandwich. This was proving difficult; the two men seemed determined to get a rise out of him.

"Scamander's trying to run us all out of the job, isn't he? Wonder what potions he's taking— no one can just _approach_ a dragon without getting burnt to a crisp."

Newt ignored him, resisting the urge to ask how someone making as little as he was could afford such a miracle potion.

"Ah, don't be so hard on him, Killigan. Even an idiot's got to be good at something."

Newt's shoulders tensed slightly. He'd always hated how people assumed that because he hadn't finished school, he was an incompetent wizard. Sensing his frustration, Pickett, who wasn't supposed to be there, peeked out to look at him concernedly. Newt quickly tucked him back underneath his collar, with a muttered, "It's fine, Pickett."

The conversation was getting louder. "I bet he's in it for the horns. If he is, I want in on it; that'll bring in a bit of gold."

Newt bristled and turned around. "Dragons," he said in a voice quite a bit stronger than usual, "are beautiful creatures, and should not be hunted as sport or treated like a means to make money."

They stared at him for a full minute before they burst into laughter. "So, what?" one of them wheezed between bouts. "You're gonna liberate the dragons, Scamander? Set them all free?"

Newt's gaze dropped for a second before he glanced back up. "If you treat them with respect— for their species, their culture— then they will be much more willing to listen. You're goal shouldn't be to dominate them, to rule over them— they want to be seen as equals. That's why they respond to me; I'm not trying to make them less than they are."

"Merlin, Scamander, you're barking," one of them said, awed. "They're _beasts_. Not human."

His break now over, Newt hurriedly stuffed the rest of his sandwich between his teeth, and wondered if he was like the dragons. Maybe the reason he could never connect with people was because he hadn't yet found any that hadn't wanted to make him feel inferior. He sighed. Maybe one day, he'd find somewhere to belong.

VI

"Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!"

Newt took his hands off of his face and looked around. Years after the war was over, he had (on very low wage as a Ministry employee) finally found the time to expand his case. Now it was home to hundreds of magical creatures he had rescued from smugglers and hunters, and some had just become very attached to him and had tagged along for the ride.

He began walking, examining the trees closely for any sign of Pickett. He had discovered recently that it was the Bowtruckle's favorite game, probably because he was undefeated. Pickett was an excellent hider.

Some of the newborn creatures enjoyed the game, too— the Occamies especially. So Newt searched for them all, passing by the Mooncalves and Frank the Thunderbird. He laughed as he reached the Occamy nest, and quickly picked up the baby Occamies, placing them gently back in their home. They were never difficult to find; they always hid near their nest and chirped excitedly when they saw him coming. After nearly an hour of doing his rounds while simultaneously searching for Pickett, he had to call it quits.

"All right, Pickett, you win!" he shouted. He groaned as Pickett peeled himself off of a branch just a few feet from his face, looking triumphant.

A Jarvey scurried up to him, bearing its teeth. "You always lose this game," it barked. "You should just give up."

Newt shook his head fondly at it as he placed Pickett on his shoulder. He hadn't had much luck with Jarveys in the past, but he didn't hold it against them; after all, he'd gotten himself into plenty of scrapes on his own.

He finished feeding his creatures— for they really were his creatures now, he loved them all— and then sat down, stroking Swooping Evil softly with two fingers, a happy smile on his face. The sunshine was warm around him, and for once, Newt felt perfectly at home. The animals around him had become like family, and Newt was quite enjoying writing his manuscript. Travelling the world to study magical beasts was the best decision he ever made, even if his blood relatives disagreed with him.

He glanced down at his oldest friend. "Well, Pickett. In one month we head to New York. Do you think Frank will like Arizona? Yes," He leaned back against a tree. "I think he will, as well."


End file.
